


Kanlungan

by ancient_moonshine



Category: Nirvana in Fire, 镇魂 | Guardian (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Diaspora AU, Filipino-Chinese history, Historical AU, History, Oneshot collection, War, revolutions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:01:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancient_moonshine/pseuds/ancient_moonshine
Summary: Kanlungan - [noun] shelter; cradleSnippets of history and identity, people and ideas caught up in time.[In other words, a oneshot collection featuring my Chinese fandoms reimagined in different historical contexts.]





	Kanlungan

The constabulary are gaining on him.

Wei Ying puts in another burst of speed, his lungs ready to explode as he urges his worn out body to run, run faster. Bad enough that the protest had gone as badly as it did – the last Wei Ying had seen before JC had dragged him away were the other student protestors being bombarded by water cannons, the Nie brothers being bundled off into a patrol car while the constabulary advanced with their truncheons. One had struck Wei Ying across the face before he’d knocked him back with his placard. JC had grabbed Wei Ying by the arm, and the sound of gunshots and screams had rent the air as they ran.

Now JC’s also gone, Wei Ying having lost track of him when they split up to keep the police from arresting them both, and Wei Ying’s bolting through the streets, his vision blurring from the tear gas and his face and chest aching with every breath. There are shouts behind him, and Wei Ying just manages to turn down a narrow path  between two buildings before  the police get close enough to hear.

 “This way!” Wei Ying curses, and and narrowly avoids getting run over when he reaches the high way and runs straight through. And then he skids to a halt before he smashes into a gate. Specifically, the gate of a subdivision, unmanned by security guards, and Wei Ying has no time to think as he grins wide, grabs onto the wrought-iron railings of the gate and climbs up and down.

“There he is!” A roar. Wei Ying takes off, the police shaking at the gate. He resists the urge to look back and stick out his tongue at them, but there are people around, residents of the subdivision pointing to him and Wei Ying just barely darts into a path behind the back of a huge white mansion, praying that JC’s gotten away, gotten home safe where _Ninong_ Jiang and his contacts can protect him, that he manages to get out of here in one piece before the police get in –

A hand grabs his arm. Wei Ying tries to wrench it away but the grip is too strong, and he’s being dragged inside the back door of the white mansion. Wei Ying snarls, tries to smash his free fist into the side of his captor’s face, but a palm catches it, twists it behind and he’s being jerked against a body, his mouth covered by one hand.

“Where did that brat go?” He hears one constabulary man snarl outside. Wei Ying barely dares breathe. Whoever has him is close enough that he can feel his breath against his ear, hear the hammering of his heart, his chest pressed against his back. Smell the cool scent of sandalwood, all around him, and then Wei Ying hears him speak.

“Do not make any noise.” The shock alone of hearing that voice would have shut Wei Ying up. The hands release him, and he’s pushed into the space behind the open door.

“Captain Mendez,” he hears that voice – Lorenzo Lan, Lan Zhan, the nephew of General Lan, Wei Ying’s college blockmate and archnemesis since elementary. The guy the other student activists took care to be wary of and the guy whose nerves Wei Ying made sure with cheerful determination to fray as much as possible – greets the constabulary with the stilted, stiff politeness he always greets everyone with. “What appears to be the problem?” The policeman salutes him. Wei Ying can’t see his face but he imagines it must be red from all that running.

“We apologize, sir.” The policeman says. “But an intruder got into this subdivision. We’re trying to find him.”

“How did this intruder get in?” Lan Zhan asks, and Wei Ying has to bite his lip to stifle that laughter that bubbles up, unbidden. Lan Zhan’s voice is cold and dispassionate. No one speaking to him would suspect that said fugitive was actually hiding a few feet away, and that Lan Zhan himself had stuffed him into that hiding place.

“H-he jumped up the gate.” The policeman falters. “D-don’t you worry, Sir, we’ll get him in no time.”

Wei Ying hears Lan Zhan turn away. He does not deign the policeman another response. “I will go with you to coordinate with security.” He says. And then Wei Ying hears Lan Zhan stepping out and the door swinging shut. But it’s a very long time before Wei Ying manages to uncurl himself from that position, even longer to cautiously get up and look around him.  

Lan Zhan returns a few minutes later. When he shuts the door behind him, Wei Ying  gets up from behind the bookshelf he’d hastily concealed himself in it. “I am alone,” Lan Zhan says, then closes his mouth. In spite of himself, Wei Ying’s mouth twitches.

“Where’d the good captain go?” Wei Ying asks, cheerful but not hiding his wariness. Lan Zhan’s expression is the still, empty lake it’s always been. His eyes, Wei Ying notes distantly, had always been lighter than most. Right now, they’re the color of whiskey shot gold with the afternoon sun.

“Looking for you.” Lan Zhan says shortly. “It’ll be a while before they give up searching. You have to stay here.” His tone booked no room for argument. Wei Ying snorts in equal parts disbelief and confusion.

“My godfather’s gonna be looking for me-“ But Lan Zhan  interrupts him.

“It won’t be safe for a very long time.” Lan Zhan says. “You need to stay here and lie low.” Wei Ying pauses. Looks up.

“No offense, Lan Zhan,” the old schoolname drops from his lips easily. “But if I recall correctly, your brother’s working for the government, and your uncle works for the military.” Wei Ying’s eyebrows are raised as he takes a step forwards. “How the hell are you gonna hide me from them?” But Lan Zhan doesn’t back down. Not even his breathing hitches when Wei Ying gets close enough.

 _What’s in this for you?_ He wants to ask, but Lan Zhan’s expression – that Wei Ying is so used to seeing darken everytime he was in the same room – softens, just an infinitesimal amount.

He reaches out. Wei Ying winces when his thumb brushes against the angry swelling of his right cheek. But he doesn’t pull away.

“You’ll be safe here.”  Lan Zhan says quietly. “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> First Quarter Storm: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Quarter_Storm
> 
> Seriously, the names should be in Hokkien [most of us Chinese immigrants to the Philippines came from Fujian province] but I was worried it would render them unrecognizable. 
> 
> Coming up next:  
> NIF, WWII  
> Guardian - Revolution of 1896/Filipino-American War


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